


Iceberg

by MoonwalkingCrab



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 09:44:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2727716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonwalkingCrab/pseuds/MoonwalkingCrab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set vaguely after The Killing Joke, Jim turns to an old friend for comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iceberg

**Author's Note:**

> Technically my first fanfiction ever, enjoy!

The acrid smoke permeating the club was a welcome sting in Jim's eyes, as welcome as the rain outside. Anything to disguise the redness in his eyes. He was numb, frozen on the inside with a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. Eyes turned towards him from the shadows and he knew he was being watched. Jim Gordon did not belong in a place like this. Shouldering his way towards the back he sensed the looming presence of the bouncer behind him.

“Pretty sure you're in the wrong place Commissioner.” 

_I don't have time for this_. Jim thought, there was only one person he could even contemplate saying more than two words to and this frowning gorilla was in the way. He could only hold it together for so long and the mask was starting to crumble. He waved the bouncer off exasperated, “Just ask your boss, he knows I'm coming.” 

 

A lie, but Oswald couldn't refuse him, not today, not after everything. Their history was long and complicated but Jim knew he could rely on the younger man. The goon frowned and disappeared through plush drapes. Jim allowed his shoulders to slump slightly, it was only nine and the Iceberg Lounge was quiet, the usual clientèle doing business elsewhere. Part of him wondered what he was doing, but when the only other option was returning once again to his empty apartment there was no choice. Nothing felt close to home any more, not since Barbara...

“The boss'll see you now Gordon,” he was ushered through to a small lounge where a dark haired man sat at a small table poring over account books.

_I wonder what information he needs from the Penguin tonight?_ Oswald didn't mind helping Jim with investigations from time to time. Anything to see the man, and if helping him brought one of those ever-decreasing smiles to his face then all the better. He raised his head as Commissioner Gordon entered.

“Well this is unexpected old friend, it has been quite a while! What can I do for you Commiss...   
James?” Oswald's smile slipped when he saw Gordon step in, concern flitting across his eyes. Jim's face was haggard, the circles under his eyes darker than even Oswald's. His usually impeccable suit was rumpled, Oswald would have guessed he'd slept in it if it weren't for the sheer exhaustion that radiated from every pore. This was serious. He motioned to the bouncer, “Sal, get everyone out, we're closing early tonight.” There was no chance of doing business tonight. Not now.

Sal didn't seem to have grasped the urgency in his tone, “But boss what about...”

A flash of anger, “I said we're closed, got it?”

The bouncer bumbled out leaving them alone and started barking out orders to shut the club down for the night, the murmurs of irritated patrons clearly audible through the curtain. Oswald rolled his eyes slightly and gestured to the chair beside him. The years were starting to show a little but the soft smile he gave Jim was the same as ever. Oswald wanted to reach out, hold him close, do anything to erase the lines of worry from his face. The lines had always been blurred between them and at this point Oswald wasn't sure where they fell.

“What happened James? You look like shit.” a gentle hand touched his elbow, “is there anything I can do?” Oswald was worried, he'd never seen his detective in this state before. Jim was staring into nothingness, tension visible in his jaw. The hand on his elbow gave a small squeeze,“ Please, you know you can tell me.”

Always the same, always looking out for him. Jim had sworn he was only going there to talk, to find support with an old friend but the instant their eyes met he felt his resolve crumble, tears spilling over as he clutched desperately at Oswald, burying his face in his perfectly pressed suit. A slight hesitation then slim arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace and cool fingers began stroking through his hair. Jim felt his body relax slightly, some of the tension hanging over him lifted by the familiar warmth. His voice cracked as he tried to choke out the words. “It's Barbara. My little girl... The Joker... They say she'll never walk again. I don't know what to do Oswald... please.”

Oswald felt his fists tighten, if it had been anyone else he may have been able to get his guys on the inside he might have had a chance at revenge. Someone had to pay for hurting Jim. But that could wait. The shaking man in his arms needed him, possibly more than he ever had.

Jim felt Oswald's hand on his cheek, stroking gently, wiping away the tears. “Shh... it's okay James, I've got you. I've always got you. We'll go upstairs and I will do everything in my power to take care of you.”

Oswald kept a small apartment above the Iceberg Lounge, and it was there he led Jim. One arm around his waist and the other leaning on his umbrella cane as they slowly shuffled up the stairs. There was an elevator but Oswald preferred to walk, always afraid of getting complacent with the leg injury that had never healed. He was afraid if he stopped forcing himself to exercise it he'd put on weight; not that James would mind, or would he? Did it even matter? They weren't together, not really, not now.

They had always been like a pair of spinning magnets twisting and dancing around each other in an ever-changing orbit, clashing together and breaking apart without any precision or predictability. Oswald had made no secret that he was devoted to Jim but refused to bring it up these days. He had spent the night before Jim's wedding fucking him senseless until he'd collapsed into tears, clinging to Jim, begging him not to marry her, to choose him instead. Jim had simply sighed and told him it wasn't possible. They had no chance of being anything more than an occasional affair.

It had been two years before they met again. The need for a crucial witness who happened to be one of the Penguin's men had thrown them together once more. An extremely tense meeting had resulted in an impromptu reunion-slash-makeout session on Oswald's desk, and despite swearing he'd never love Jim Gordon again, the affair had continued.

Jolted out of his memory by a sudden shock of pain, Oswald unlocked the door to his suite. Jim weighed heavy against his side causing him to wince at the pressure on his bad leg. _That doesn't matter, Jim matters._  
The apartment was warm and welcoming, a contrast to the dimly lit club downstairs. Having lived with his mother's ancient heirlooms for so long Oswald had developed fairly simple tastes and it showed. Everything was worn but comfortable, as close to homey as a mob bosses place could be. Unable to keep himself upright any longer Jim sank into a well stuffed couch beside the fire, the warmth slowly seeping into his bones. Despite this the chilling numbness still ran through him and he found himself mourning the loss of Oswald's wiry strength supporting him. Shrugging off his damp coat he tossed it behind the couch before kicking off his shoes.

“Honestly, you know where the rack is yet you never use it!” Oswald's faintly exasperated voice floated behind him. That was more like it, this was the closest Jim had come to home since it happened. He glanced over his shoulder to see the younger man straightening his jacket and hanging it neatly before moving to stand behind him again. Cool hands ran down the sides of his neck and he could feel the faint warmth of breath before his shoulders were gently massaged by skilled fingers. The faint scent of cigars hung about Oswald as well as a hint of peppermint, something he had always loved the taste of.

“Do you want to talk Jim? How long has it been since you slept?” warm breath ghosted across his neck, tickling slightly. 

Jim thought through the haze of the last few days; pain, exhaustion, sorrow, guilt, regret, anger; they all swirled within his mind causing his vision to cloud over. He leaned back only to meet concerned blue eyes. A small glow fired within his belly, the numbing cold within his body slightly beaten back by the care he found within them.

“I dunno, it's been three, four days maybe?”

Oswald pursed his lips and moved to sit next to Jim, his hand brushing the detective's slightly, “That won't do, you need rest. Have you eaten anything? Can I get you something to drink? What do you need James?”

Jim leaned forward, the glow in his belly flickering its way into a fire. He covered Oswald's hand with his own and began slowly moving the other up the faintly twisted muscle of the other man's thigh. 

“Oswald. All I need right now is you.”

A small exhale. “James are you sure about this?” the nervous glance Oswald gave threw him back twenty years to the very first time. Jim answered exactly as he had back then by pulling Oswald towards him and connecting their lips.

It was a familiar dance of soft breaths and gentle caresses, lips sliding across one another. They brushed together again briefly, once, twice before pulling back. Jim leaned into the curve of Oswald's shoulder as his hand came around to twine their fingers together. The pain wasn't going to disappear that easily but his body at least, was beginning to relax.

A soft sigh murmured across his hair,“I will never get used to that moustache,” Oswald said, rubbing under his nose, “it's so bristly.”

Ah this again, “Yeah? Well at least I don't taste like those cigars you think make you look fancy.” Jim gave a brief tilt of the lips as Oswald mock pouted, eyes shining with relief. Oswald held him tighter, this was a little more like his Jim.

“Now that's not strictly fair, I can go brush the cigars out of my mouth but unless you come with me and shave, that moustache will still be there.”

“I've had this moustache for almost 15 years you know! Why do you hate it so much?”

Oswald found himself squirming slightly, it was too sentimental, Jim wouldn't insist would he? 

_Clean-shaven James Gordon spared my life, he was my first friend, the first person I felt I could trust. Clean-shaven James Gordon was the one who kissed me, he was my first lover, my only lover._

Fingers trailed across his lips and when their eyes met he relented, but only slightly, he wouldn't tell the whole truth. “Well if you must know, I feel it disrupts my memories somewhat. When you first kissed me you were completely moustache free, however, whenever I try to think of it now all I can feel are bristles.” He felt a blush rise to his cheeks at the unspoken truth.

_Clean-shaven James Gordon loved me._

Bemusement was written across Jim's face at Oswald's admission, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “You think of me kissing you a lot then?”

Oswald's cheeks coloured even more, “I didn't say tha- mmph!”

Jim had him held by the lapels and pinned down, kissing him again before pulling back, “You are so cute sometimes Ozzy, you know that?”

Oswald had no articulate reply, if this was what Jim wanted then he was not going to argue, gripping Jim's tie he began loosening it as he pulled Jim back down, deepening the kiss into something distinctly less innocent. Rough hands pulled at his coat before running underneath his shirt to trail warmth across his ribs and around his back, he opened his mouth in a gasp only to have Jim's tongue run across his own, dipping to taste more. Oswald gave a groan as he felt himself already beginning to harden, it really had been far too long.

Jim was caught up in the moment, pouring every ounce of his frustration into Oswald, feeling himself properly for the first time in days, the numbness giving way to heavy limbs and aching muscles. He was slowing down, waves of tiredness beginning to sweep over him. Oswald was wriggling beneath him, trying to rub against him. Jim began to kiss more slowly, tenderly, in an attempt to apologise.

“I don't think I'll be much use to you tonight Ozzy, the last few days have really taken it out of me.”

Oswald lay beneath him flushed and breathless but nevertheless tried to straighten his shirt out, pulling it down to disguise the obvious bulge between them. He stuttered slightly, “ Th- that's quite all right James,” he sat up in an attempt to regain his dignity, “you need to rest, I apologise for my inappropriate behaviour.”

Jim chuckled and kissed him softly, “Don't ever apologise for that, I started it, but I really should get back and try to get some sleep.” He didn't want to go back but he wasn't about to ask if he could stay. Oswald was a busy man and the last thing he needed was an emotionally unstable policeman who couldn't keep his hands to himself. He put his hand on Oswald's thigh once more, “and for the record. I'm actually quite fond of your 'inappropriate behaviour'.” He always had been, ever since their first time together, there had been nothing better than feeling Oswald wrapped around him. Not that he would admit that of course, Oswald had probably moved on a long time ago.

Oswald was near enough composed again, as composed as a man with a hard on could be at least. He frowned at Jim and shook his head, “You really shouldn't go back to your apartment James, I don't believe you should be alone at this time. Please, I said I was going to take care of you.” He motioned towards the bedroom, “Stay here as long as you need.”

Jim started towards the darkened room before turning to the dark haired man still seated by the fire, “Are you coming with me?” 

Fondness swept across Oswald's features, “I'm not so sure that's a great idea, I was just going to sleep here.” he indicated the couch next to him, “I rarely have have guests so there is only one bed and I don't wish to make presumptions. I want you to be comfortable.”

Jim started back towards him, reaching to stroke a pale cheek. “I told you earlier, I came here because I need you. Even if it's just to hold you, I want you in bed with me. Now let's go.” He pulled Oswald up, lacing their fingers together and pulling him into the dark bedroom.

They were silent as they undressed, Jim in his underwear and Oswald changing into navy blue pyjamas. They hung slightly from his thin frame making him look younger, more vulnerable and altogether adorable. Jim wanted to hug him, hold him close but an air of awkwardness had settled above them. Oswald was wringing his hands slightly, glancing nervously at Jim, both waiting for the other to get into bed.

Finally Jim made the first move, burrowing under soft cotton sheets, Oswald following his lead. Jim sighed, his muscles relaxing as he sank into the mattress, “Damn this is a comfortable bed.” Oswald smiled slightly and wriggled closer.

“Yes, I find it helps immensely with my leg, it is a little large for one person though,” his head rested on Jim's shoulder now, “you're the only one I've shared it with.”

Jim's eyes widened in disbelief, “Not even those women I've seen you with at events?” As a respected, if not entirely honest businessman in Gotham Jim had occasionally ran into Oswald at benefits and museum openings and every time he had been accompanied by some beautiful woman or another. It was one of the main reasons he'd been keeping his distance lately.

Oswald gave him a wry smile, “Don't be ridiculous, I'd think you of all people would know I have no interest in women, those young ladies are purely for appearances sake,” running a hand across Jim's chest he continued softly, “besides, I don't believe in sleeping with those I'm not in love with.”

Jim felt a sudden lightness in his chest and pulled Oswald closer, kissing the top of his head. This was it, this was what he needed, he could talk now.

“I almost lost it the other day you know. The Joker, he was trying to prove a point, trying to prove that anyone could become like him. I was so close to snapping. Do you know what saved me?” Oswald lay silent, gripping Jim's arm as he continued, “I remembered what you said, what you've been telling me since we met. I'm one of the good ones.” He turned to Oswald, eyes shining, “I came here tonight because I thought I needed a friend, but you're more than that. You're the closest thing to home I have, it's no wonder I've never stopped loving you.”

Oswald froze, not daring to look the man holding him in the eye, simply moving up and kissing him deeply. The moustache tickled but he found he didn't mind, Jim Gordon loved him.


End file.
